Inside the skin of chronic pain

We face many challenges, those of us who live with chronic pain. We have many conditions, large and small, debilitating and less debilitating. The physical side of this kind of life is only the beginning. There are many “inside” problems, or secrets, known only to us. One of those secrets is getting other people to understand us. It’s just human nature, I suppose, to want others to understand what you are experiencing, but you can only take that so far. Most of the time, I have found, others form opinions about me based on their own experience. Unless you live inside my body, you cannot possibly know what life is for me. Unless I have lived inside your experiences, how can I know what your life is? Sharing is important but can only go so far. Unless you reach out and give your companion an enormous pinch or your doctor a knuckle sandwich, they may have no concept of what pain is; let alone pain that is there every day. Either one of these is not the solution and obviously would do nothing for your popularity or mine, to say nothing of what the poor doctor would write on your chart. “Yes, indeed, this one is a nut job for sure.” Also, keep in mind that it is considered assault and could cause you another whole set of problems.

Sometimes, at least in my experience, others don’t really like to be faced with hardship, pain or illness. They often say insensitive, condescending things without even knowing they are being condescending. They say things like, “Hey, smile,” and “I think you should get out more,” or “don’t think about your problems so much.” My personal favorite is “Gee, but you look great.” Sometimes you can meet a real pip who says, “Are you still sick?” or “Haven’t you been sick long enough?” In other words, you have filled your quota and it’s time to stop being ill. What they are really saying is, “Boy, I’m sure glad that’s not me,” and “I’d like to get a lot of space between your problems and me.”

This can create a problem with communicating, therefore we try to talk to each other. For some of us who have been ill a very long time, talking gets tiresome, and speaking for myself, I find it easier to let my fingers do the talking. No, not that finger. I’m talking about writing this blog and the other articles and poetry I’ve written. Most of the time I don’t share my health experiences with others. I know that seems strange since I’m documenting my life on a blog that reaches many all over the world, but if you are someone who checks my groceries, a clerk at a store or a neighbor who sees me coming and going, chances are you would think I am just another older woman with a normal life. I’m not sure what normal is anymore. It’s not ordinary. It’s not usual. It’s definitely not me.

I know I’m not the only one with hardship because I’ve discovered hardship comes in many shapes and, eventually, it visits everyone. I sometimes wish that others could magically look into the body and mind of another so they could develop a deeper understanding of what their fellows are suffering, grieving over or perhaps, hopefully, rejoicing in. Good humor can be as hard to understand as suffering, can it not? Joy is, however, much easier to share. Suffering we so often end up doing alone. Suffering is not a team sport. It’s strictly a game of solitaire.

One of the secrets we all share is a heightened enjoyment in almost everything. Have you ever been in a dark place, then suddenly been exposed to the light? I still remember an experience I had as a child. We were traveling through the heat of a Texas summer, before air conditioning was in the car. We were all hot, sticky and thirsty. We pulled up to a root beer stand and they served the drink in frosted mugs. It was sheer heaven. You see, many of us become experts in the art of contrasts. For many of us who were once on the fast track of life, slowing down has brought new enlightenment. It’s the difference between walking through a field of flowers and driving through it.

Many of us with chronic pain think about death a lot more than those folks on the “fast track” do. This condition is life-altering. It’s not a bad thing to be aware that life ends. It gives it greater value, does it not? When I was a working nurse, I was always surprised at the extent of shock that accompanied grieving I saw in many individuals. I understand grieving, but many of these folks acted like death was a surprise when it struck them close to home. I hate to burst any bubbles out there, but none of us are getting out of here alive. Simple fact. It’s kind of like eating your favorite chocolate-coated ice cream bar. You don’t have all the time in the world to enjoy it. Savor it while you have it and know that sometimes it can get pretty messy and sticky. It is worth it.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sue Falkner-Wood

Sue Falkner-Wood is a retired registered nurse living in Astoria, Ore., with her husband, who is also an R.N. Sue left nursing in 1990 due to chronic pain and other symptoms related to what was eventually...read more

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